The Silver Walker
Those who have lived since the First Age are by default respected and admired by the lunar people. So few of them left, each one is unique and has been changed by the many passing years. Well...almost all of them have changed. There is one who still acts like a noble lunar of that ancient civilization. He maintains the noble dress of that time and comports himself with the highest standards of honour. He does not believe that it was civilization that ruined the solars, or Dragonblooded, or drove the Sidereals against them. He has no explanation for why it happened, but he does not believe it was society. Of course, that isn't to say he doesn't think things would repeat themselves if that society were reborn as it once was. He would have developed a theory as to what happened to the solars, but he has not had a chance to study any in the long years since the Ursupation.
When the Ursupation began it was he who killed his wife, who wrapped her body in funeral wraps and let the Sidereals carry her soul away, refusing to let the Dragonblood sully her body with their blades. He gathered up those of their children that he could and led them away. The Unconquered Sun may have turned from all of his Exalted, but Luna still had her favourites and so the Sidereals never lead the Dragonblooded against him, for they had received pressure not to kill him and forsaw no threat from letting him live.
His skills kept the ones he took with him safe from routine Dragonblooded hunts and the wyld, and he submitted himself to the tattoos once they had been mastered. More of those who were descended from him and his lover died, until the Great Contagion killed all but a few. Still, he protected them and kept them with him, and though few in number they have increased since then, numbering perhaps 50 that he can trace directly to himself and his departed love.
His tell is long silver hair and an otherworldly look and presence. He moves with a more then human grace and lightness, his fingers and arms though slim betraying a power in them, his looks outshining the nymphs of the sea. He dresses in fine cloths, in light white pants, white tunic, a black sash which also goes to loop across the chest and down the back over one shoulder. His boots are of a supple and hardy leather. He carries no weapon on his person, nor armor it would seem, yet no one who looked at him would call him unarmed or unprepared.
The lands he and his wife once called home are long consumed by the Wyld, so instead he remains in the River Province, a region he and his wife spent a great deal of time in those many years ago. He knows his wife is reborn for he can feel the bonds of their marriage still holding even after these many many years but he does not seek her out. For the first time in millenia he knows doubt and hesitation. What does one say when you see the woman you murdered for love reborn? Does he return to her, become her champion once more and let the world once again know the rule of the Sun? His travels and powers have given him much lore of Creation. His own hands on studies of the Shadowlands and observations of the Deathlords granting him keen insights but who to share it with? Centuries of time has given him such wisdom and strength but he is no closer to his answer of what went wrong with the Solars. So he remains nomadic with his descendants, maintaining his ancient ways and values and offering wisdom to those who would seek it.
